Jamais
by Momosportif
Summary: A creepy TiedollKanda story exploring a possible reason that Kanda is particularly attached to his gensui. He reflects on a night from his childhood and remembers when two hands and ten fingers strayed where they shouldn't have. Character's are Hoshino's.


Time skips at the lines. It goes present, past, present. :)

"Jamais" means never. :)

A thousand thank yous for reading and I hope you enjoy!

-bows-

-S

* * *

I have a second. There are two, the one you see and another.

I cannot trace its curves, or cover it at night to hide its glow, or move it somewhere safe so no one sees it. But it can break too.

* * *

There are a million, million, million little hands waking me up, little hands without bodies to hit at and they are soon not nice and I know it.

They are mean little hands.

Dark hands like the night at first, but soon I can see them and I only see two hands, two big hands and ten fingers, and I am small, I know.

But then I cannot see because my face is in dark and my neck hurts and my breath is trapped inside but it wants to be out, it wants to be out like I do, away from a thousand, thousand, thousand mouths that are eating me so fast, I didn't do anything to them, it is not fair, please stop, please stop.

I am small, I know.

I hurt.

I want to disappear.

No ten fingers, no ten fingers.

I see again but not because I want to, nothing is because I want to, I am part of the dark now and no one cares about my feelings, no two hands, no ten fingers, and someone is making words in the language of the people I don't know here, the language that sounds like pigs and fat men and hurt. The language I need at this moment. (Someone is laughing). But I do not know the word (someone will kill me)- Help.

Help.

Help, help, helphelphelphelphelphelp-

There are a million, million, million colors when the light comes on and they make my eyes sting so I squeeze them shut and listen to words like water come to a boil and explode all over the room. The hands are gone and my body is free so I open my eyes and he, the man with water words and glass over his sleepy eyes, is here. And he is picking up someone with two hands and ten fingers and someone is falling hard to the ground.

The fish fights the crane and I hope he wins. I hope he kills someone.

A thousand, thousand, thousand cold touches me fast and I hide now, now that I can disappear. Until it is quiet and the bed droops, sloppy, at my feet.

I peek.

A hand comes for me.

I let my breath free and it runs out loud and the hand goes away.

He is watching me with sad, sad sleepy eyes.

I hide. I want to go home. There is no someone there.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Words like water. I ignore.

Help.

Help.

A drop. I ignore.

I cannot trust the water. I cannot trust the pigs and fat men.

Help, help, help-

"Kanda…" There are two warm hands with ten soft fingers and wet in my eyes so I cannot help but trust the water now and pray to my home-scraps that it does not hurt me. "Kanda." He wraps me up tight and holds me close hard and lets water words pour over my head while I hide my silly wet eyes in his chest and try to keep from shaking.

"Jamais, jamais, jamais," he says. I do not know the word. But I know it will not hurt me. He will not hurt me.

I hold him close hard and stop trying.

* * *

On a night like this it happened, but no one would dare now.

I am still small, but not so small.

I've killed someone (a million, million, million times) and no one has dared to touch me again.

Except for him (a thousand, thousand, thousand times) and even though he didn't cry that night he has since.

I don't care.

Let him cry if he wants to. I will let it pour over my head and smile just to be safe.

I cannot change what happened on a night like this with four hands and twenty fingers when the fish beat the crane (six hands and thirty fingers, but two and ten were so small and nothing) and I trusted him.

He cannot change what happened on a night like this… and he offered himself to me not knowing I would take him and only him and never, never let go.

On a night like this I got a second.

I cannot trace his curves, or cover him at night to hide his glow, or move him somewhere safe so no one sees him. But he can break too.

He is my second hourglass (and time is running out).


End file.
